


I Love Mondays

by HillaryLeonor



Category: Political RPF, Political RPF - US 20th c., Political RPF - US 21st c.
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 01:03:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13693632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HillaryLeonor/pseuds/HillaryLeonor
Summary: When Hillary had to remove her bra because of a coffee disaster, a guy suddenly went bonkers. Workplace AU. Set 2018.





	I Love Mondays

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> For [AnirtakShenwoi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnirtakShenwoi/pseuds/AnirtakShenwoi): As promised, the bra-less Hillary fic!

"Shit." Hillary spilled her coffee just as when the train doors opened, and the man in front of her knocked her coffee all over her pristine white blouse. Fuck Mondays. The worst day of the week. It was barely 9 am and the universe decided to fuck her already. She pulled her coat to hide the stain and buttoned it all up so that the stain would be covered from public view.

She threw her now empty coffee cup and raced to a nearby Starbucks to buy a fresh cup of her caramel latte. Thank God the barista was cute. She would have worked her magic with that guy until she realized that he could practically be his son. Ewww. Gross. That was a boy, and she wanted a man.

By the time she reached her office, a PR firm in Manhattan, Huma, her secretary, had already left several post-its of missed calls on her desk. Hillary read them one by one. A follow-up from a client, a meeting request from the firm's CEO and another date invitation from Steve, an engineer from Redwood Industries.

By the time Hillary finished reading the notes, Huma was already leaning on her office door with a smirk on her face.

"So I assume everything went well with Stevie boy?" Huma teased.

Hillary rolled her eyes. "I thought I ditched him. Why is he still calling?"

"Because to men, a no means yes. I thought I taught you better than that, Hillary. I am so disappointed in you," Huma said.

"I guess I should kick his ass the next time he calls. What's on the agenda today, Huma? Why is the boss asking for me?" she sat on her chair and asked for Huma's notes.

Huma's voice suddenly turned into a whisper as she sat down in front of Hillary. "I've been keeping my ears on the ground. Rumors are, Turner wants you on a big project."

"What project?"

"Facebook's on a decline. They want to revitalize their image. Zuckerberg wants us and Turner wants you to lead the project."

Hillary rolled her eyes. "PR can only do so much with those fuckers unless they change their policies."

"Well, Turner still wants this because it'll be a cash cow for us. Besides, you can now tell Facebook what you really think! Or at least, kick Zuckerberg's ass in a meeting," Huma said hopefully.

"I guess you're right."

"So, Turner wants to meet tomorrow at 11 for a lunch meeting. I'll confirm that right away. And why haven't you taken off your coat?" Huma pointed her pen on Hillary's coat.

"Oh, that?" Hillary bent her head, suddenly remembering the spilled coffee. "Some schmuck spilled coffee all over me in the subway. My white blouse is now stained with coffee. Thanks for reminding me that I need to change"

"Alright, then," nodded Huma, "Just a reminder, you have a meeting at 2 with Uma Thurman’s people. And then on Friday is the presentation of the proposal for that HHS project.”

“Waste of taxpayer money if you ask me. Those incompetent fucks,” Hillary sneered.

“There, there, you firecracker. You have too many feelings on these things,” Huma remarked as she stood up and left for her desk.

“Because I got turned job for a job I wanted,” Hillary snarled under her breath. She better let go of that topic before her Monday morning could get any more ruined.

Hillary slipped into the ladies’ room and opened her locker, relieved to find a fresh blue spare blouse inside, but horrified because she had no spare bra. She forgot to bring in another spare bra when she used it after Ed from the graphics department made out with her three weeks ago and ripped the bra she was wearing. Ed wasn’t even that good. He was just…a bra maniac.

So, back to her predicament. She had no bra to use. She didn’t want to wear the bra she had because it was spilled with coffee too. She could have gotten away with it if she had no meetings and she would just stay inside her office all day. But no. She had a meeting at 2. What should she do?

An idea suddenly flickered inside her head. She left her blazer inside her desk yesterday. She specifically remembered that because she didn’t want to carry her blazer while on the subway so she opted to leave it in the office instead. Yes! She would just wear her blazer. Satisfied, she took the blue blouse and locked herself inside a cubicle to change.

When she got back to her office, she was as stunned and annoyed to find the blazer missing. Shit. Where did it go? She could have sworn that it was there yesterday! Where the fuck was her blazer at the time she needed it the most? She looked down at her chest and she was horrified to see her boobs all saggy. She really needed that push-up bra of hers, though it was a small blessing that areolas are covered quite well. The nipples, however, are an entirely different banana. Her twin teets were poking ever so subtly on the fabric of her blouse. Oh God. It’s like she had a flashing “WELCOME” sign erected on her breasts. Fuck. How could she attend that 2 pm meeting?

Hillary had half a mind to go home and grab a bra, but then she remembered that Huma could buy a pair for her. Careful not to attract attention to her breasts, Hillary tiptoed to check for Huma in her desk, but she was surprised and disappointed to find her secretary gone. Double fuck. Where was she?!

And to add insult to injury, she heard a familiar raspy voice echoing across the halls of their office. That pesky guy from legal, Bill Clinton, was making his rounds on her staff again. Time and time again, he would go up pretending to ask for a document from them just to flirt with the ladies – and sometimes, interns – in her department. Oh no. If he wanted to flirt, he would have to wait until lunch, Hillary thought.

She was about to charge and fend off Bill Clinton away from her working staff, but she remembered that she was still braless. Fuck. But then, she could telephone her staff and ask to have Bill Clinton on the line. Yes, that would work.

She dialed her staff’s local number, and the giggling ladies around Bill went silent immediately. From her office, she saw one of her staff hand over the phone to Bill, who turned around to her when he placed the phone on his ear.

“Hello?” said Bill.

“Bill, leave my staff alone. How many times do I have to tell you to keep your disgusting antics out of my office?” she said, irritated. “If you can’t keep it in your pants, then at least do it after hours. Or at lunch.”

“Whoa, whoa, sorry Grandma,” Bill sneered from the other line. Despite the distance, Hillary could clearly the stupid grin on his face. “I am just asking for the contract with Mapfre LLC.”

“Which you can ask for and receive via email,” Hillary finished for him.

“You know I don’t like emails. I prefer in-person communications,” he said, with the emphasis on _in-person communications_.

“And you could have gotten that within five minutes,” Hillary countered.

“But Alison’s not yet done photocopying it,” was his excuse.

“That contract is ten fucking pages long. I’ll just call Alison…”

His bluff busted, Bill raised up his hands in surrender.

“Okay, okay, you got me. Madam McKillJoy. I’ll leave.”

Relieved and feeling triumphant, Hillary said, “Good, and don’t come back if you don’t have legit business in here” before slamming the phone down. She saw Bill gave one last peek at her leaving, checking every occasionally if she was still looking. Unfortunately for her, she was.

When Bill was finally gone, she turned to her computer and proofread her Powerpoint presentation for her 2 pm meeting.

By the time she had finished, it was almost lunch, and she was only reminded of that because her stomach was already growling. She took a peek at Huma’s desk, but her secretary still wasn’t there. What in the world?! Where was she?

Finally, she decided to call her.

“Hi Hillary,” Huma answered on the other line.

“Huma! Where are you? And where’s my blazer?” Hillary was half-worried and half-annoyed.

“I’m at HR. Fuckers are messing with my income tax. And your blazer is at the dry cleaning.”

“What?! Why did you do that?! I need that blazer!” Hillary exploded.

“Girl, you had that blazer on for two weeks. I took it upon myself to have it cleaned,” Huma said.

Hillary was touched that Huma was very mindful of her needs. She was more than a friend than an assistant to her, but she was pissed that Huma had to be very caring for her at the worst possible time.

“Alright, thanks, Huma. Can you please do something else for me?”

“Fire away, Boss…”

“Can you please drop by the nearest Walmart and pick up a bra for me? You know my size, right?”

“Okay?” Huma sounded confused by her request. “What for? You have an impromptu date?”

“No. My bra’s a casualty of that coffee disaster. I thought I had a spare bra in my locker. I forgot I used it when Ed ripped my bra.”

“Ed from graphics? Now, why haven’t I heard of it?” Huma was probing her Boss.

“Because I kept my mouth shut. Now go get me that bra. I have a meeting at 2 o’clock!”

“Alright, alright. But you owe me one. This isn’t part of my job,” Huma teased.  

“Fine. If you call me in the middle of the night to rescue you from that fucker Anthony, I’ll gladly pick you up.”

“Oh shut up, Hillary. Anthony’s great,” Huma gushed of her new boyfriend.

Hillary rolled her eyes. “Fine. I trust your judgment. But come back soon, okay?”

“Got it, HRod,” Huma said in a much chipper voice.

As soon as the put the phone down, she heard Bill Clinton’s voice yet again. She took a glimpse of her staff and saw him back at his usual spot, his arms on his waist, his feet crossed, flashing that Cheshire cat grin. That bonehead. Unable to control herself, Hillary stood up and barged towards the Bill.

Bill, whose back was turned against her, was in the middle of telling a joke. The staff immediately saw Hillary marching towards them, so they all fell silent, which went unnoticed to Bill.

“…and the sign said, “For Valentine’s Day promo: Bring your wife, get a 45% discount. Bring your girlfriend, get a 25% discount. Bring both, and your meal is on us!”

Bill let out a loud, hearty laugh, slapping his knee in delight. Unfortunately, his joke fell flat on his nervous, terrified audience. He was confused as to why the ladies were looking at him like that until he realized that they were looking at them. They were looking at someone behind him.

Turning around slowly, Bill noticed the angry lady whose hands hung on her waist, and the tapping of her heels were the only sounds heard in the sudden dead air.

Bill’s eyes widened when his eyes suddenly fell on her chest. He blinked twice just to check if he wasn’t dreaming. Yep. He was awake alright. Those two little peaks poking on her blouse were unmistakable.

Holy shit. The goddess of his wet dreams had finally come! Halleluiah!

Bill gulped twice, and Hillary mistook it for fear, but in reality, his head was spinning in all directions. He could barely contain himself in excitement, though he was thankful that his Little Bill wasn’t in the mood to betray him and tell the universe how much he fantasized for this moment. He couldn’t trust himself not to grab those luscious breasts of hers, so he slipped his hands into his pocket.

“Funny, I seem to remember telling you a few hours ago that my department is off limits during office hours. Do I have to repeat myself, Bill Clinton, or shall I speak to Turner about this?” Hillary threatened.

Bill, a man of low resistance to Hillary Rodham’s boobs, was still staring at her chest. “S-sorry,” he stammered.

Hillary was quick to realize that he was staring at her breasts, so she scrambled to fold her arms across her chest. “My eyes are up here, Clinton,” she snapped.

“Right. Sorry, sorry.”

She felt the heat quickly rising to her cheeks. Fuck, she forgot that she wasn’t wearing a bra when she marched straight to her staff’s desks. She had always forgotten herself when it came to Bill Clinton.

“Fine,” she simply said, just so she could quickly end this conversation and hide in her office in shame. “One more and I’m telling Turner. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bill stammered, uncharacteristically nervous. He quietly left without a word.

Hillary, trying to cover up her embarrassing conversation from her staff, pretended that nothing had happened and told her staff to tell her if Bill came up there again, to which the staff replied with a nervous “Yes, Ms. Rodham.”

Quickly, but not too quickly, she marched back to her office to wait for Huma there.

As soon as she got back, she realized that she should be having lunch anytime soon, but her predicament prevented her from leaving her desk unless Huma arrived. She grabbed her phone to text her assistant, but she was disappointed to find Huma’s text saying she was stuck in traffic, but promised to get back by 2 pm. Fuck. She couldn’t ask anyone to buy lunch for her.

Her stomach growled again, and she was beginning to feel light-headed. She couldn’t get to that meeting famished. No. Thankfully, she hatched another idea. She grabbed her phone and called for burritos to be delivered right to her office. She almost told the guy from Chipotle “I love you” when he said that her food would arrive in thirty minutes.

With her food on the way, Hillary thought that she should fix herself for the upcoming meeting. She went out of her office and found the floor empty. Typical. It was lunchtime, after all. Everybody was either in the cafeteria or eating outside. This was Manhattan. There was no shortage of places to eat.

When she thought the coast was clear, she quietly slipped into the ladies’ room to apply her make-up. She gently dusted her face with a thin layer of power, a little blush and a swipe of pink lipstick. There. All set for the big meeting. Once she was completely satisfied with her look, she stored her make-up kit in her locker and walked back to her office to wait for the Chipotle delivery guy to arrive.

But when she came back, the floor wasn’t empty. Bill Clinton was nervously hanging out at Effie Gardner’s desk. He seemed flustered, more than he was when she scared the shit out of him earlier.

“May I help you?” Hillary said as she approached Bill, quickly crossing her arms over her chest. After all, it was lunch hour. He could kid around as much as he liked.

“Oh, uhm…” For some reason, Bill’s face reddened tenfold. Hillary could tell that he was struggling not to look at her breasts. HR was certainly going to hear about this…

“I was looking for Effie,” Bill managed to cough. “The contract she gave me was incomplete. I came here early because I need to go through it by this afternoon. Turner wants to hear our opinion on in ASAP.”

Oh. An actual work request. “Alright, you can sit on the couch,” Hillary pointed at the comfy couch where visitors and clients usually sit. “Don’t worry, Effie is usually here by 1 pm.”

“Alright, thanks.” Bill sat on the couch Hillary referred to and waited there.

With Bill out of her mind, Hillary suddenly remembered that she had a bottle of soy milk in the pantry. It could calm some of the growling on her stomach, so she grabbed her bottle in the refrigerator. When she came back, Bill was fidgeting like mad.

To be honest, she felt a little bad for the guy. Sure, he was annoying as hell, but she couldn’t help but sympathize with him. He really looked like he was in deep shit. From what she heard from Huma, Turner wasn’t happy with how the Mapfre contract went, and legal was definitely bearing the brunt of it.

Despite her best intentions, Hillary didn’t know what to do, so she offered her still full soy milk.

“Soy milk? I’m sorry, this is all I have, but you sure look like you could use some nourishment,” Hillary offered.

Bill shook his head. “Nah, it’s okay.” E looked at his watch again. Fuck. It’s just 12:30.

Poor guy. To be honest, Hillary would have preferred it if she left him alone and freak out until Effie came, but then again, there was no harm talking to the guy, befriending him a little once in a while and then coax a favor from him.

“Do you want to stay in my office? You sure could use some company,” Hillary asked tentatively.

For a split second, Hillary thought that Bill was going to explode.

“Oh! Uhm…okay,” he accepted her invitation.

Once inside her office, Hillary motioned Bill to sit on the chair in front of her. It was then when she realized that her desk pretty much covered her boobs, much to her relief.

“So…” What now? Hillary wasn’t a fan of small talks with Bill Clinton. She tried to maintain her distance from him as much as possible because he annoyed the hell out of him. Of all the women in the firm, only Hillary wasn’t impressed with his Southern charm. But her lukewarm opinion of him didn’t stop the other women from swooning all over him.

 “Are you hungry?” was all Hillary could think of saying.

Bill shook his head. “No, I’m good thanks. I am just anxious. I need to see Effie.”

“I’m sorry, I couldn’t help you with your concern. Effie handles those contracts. I do not know where she puts it,” Hillary apologized.

“It’s okay. I must have been annoying the hell out of you,” he said.

_You got that right mister_ , Hillary thought. She couldn’t miss his momentary glance to her chest. She folded her arms again to tell him her goodies are off limits.

“Anyway, any new clients lately? There’s a rumor that Turner wants you for a BIG project…”

Hillary frowned. “How did you know that?”

Bill look angry at himself for slipping. “I-I-I overheard the bosses whispering about it in the elevator.”

Hillary had no proof whether what he said was true, but she could tell that he was lying to his teeth.

“To be honest, I have no idea about that project. No one spoke to me about it yet,” she admitted.

“So it’s still under the wraps then?”

“Possibly. They’re probably at the initial stages so that’s why I am not in the loop yet.”

“But that project is huge! If you can pilot it and land the plane smoothly, you can go places! Heck, you can even open your own firm! People will come to you!”

“I know. Daunting, but exciting as well. The big break I’ve been waiting for,” she said fondly.

“And when that happens, I’d love to be your employee,” he replied, smiling.

Wait. Was Bill Clinton trying to flirt with her? What universe was this?!

“Then I wouldn’t hire you. You waste my workers’ time,” she quipped, grinning.   

“Even your coffee boy?”

Okay, he’s flirting. There’s no doubt about it.

And somehow, Hillary thought it was working. The person least impressed by Bill Clinton was finally falling for his legendary charms.

Dammit.

“I’ll think about it. Even then, you’d probably flirt with a lot with my staff before you can even get my coffee,” she said, her smile playful.

Bill’s demeanor suddenly changed from that of a nervous schoolboy to a ladies’ man. Hillary didn’t know where the hell he found that mojo, but she was afraid that she’s already slipping.

“I look forward to that day,” he said.

Hillary had to admit, talking to Bill was fun. If he could deflate his head a bit, he could have been decent. Attractive, even. It’s just that Hillary had a knack for detecting other people’s bullshit, and that was the first thing she saw on Bill since Day 1.

With the faint sounds of people laughing slowly emerging, their casual conversation was interrupted. Their bubble, protected by the walls of her office, had suddenly popped. Bill and Hillary both stood up.

Hillary had forgotten to cover her chest with her arms.

And she didn’t realize that one of her buttons popped open.   

And Bill couldn’t look away.

When Hillary realized what Bill was looking at, it was too late. She frantically covered her exposed cleavage and Bill uncomfortably looked away.

“Sorry,” Bill gulped.

Hillary didn’t know if Bill noticed or felt it, but she swore he saw the teensiest hint of a boner forming in his pants. Or maybe he just had a big wallet. No, no, no, a wallet couldn’t make an outline right where his crotch was. It had to be a boner.

She debated whether to tell him, but for the sake of maintaining a professional relationship with him, she decided to pretend that she didn’t notice.

But then, will she let him walk in public with that cock salute?

Choices, choices…

In the end, Hillary chose to do the right thing.

“Bill?” She called her before he could get out the door.

“Yes?” he turned around before he could hold the doorknob.

“I know it’s not my place to say, but I think you might want to let that pass before you leave my office,” she pointed at his crotch.

“Wait what?” He looked down and was horrified with the tenting in his pants. He instinctively covered his shame with the clipboard Hillary didn’t realize he was holding all along. “I’m so sorry…”

“It’s alright,” she replied. Actually, it wasn’t. It’s as fucked up as it could be. How in the world did this happen? Bill Clinton just had a boner right in front of her. And he had only seen her cleavage.

“Where’s the men’s room, please? I’ll just let this pass over there.”

“Go left and then straight ahead. Since we don’t have a lot of guys on our floor, you can have the place to yourself.”

Bill gulped. “Alright, thanks. I’m so sorry. This is so embarrassing.”

“It’s quite alright,” Hillary simply said. What else could she say? She couldn’t just blurt out “YOU FUCKING PERVERT!” and cause a commotion.

Without another word, Bill scampered out of Hillary’s office and went straight to the men’s room.

* * *

Whew. After five minutes of thinking watching Donald Trump’s inauguration speech on his iPhone, Bill was able to calm down his raging cock. He felt cranky, though. He would have wanted to rub it out, but he really needed to speak with Effie.

Actually, no. That was a lie. He didn’t need any more reason to be attracted to Hillary after he made a fool of himself earlier. Sure, he had some smooth moments, but in his opinion, his short chat with Hillary was overall a disaster.

He was looking at his pants as he went outside the men’s room. Whew. It’s all good. Everything’s fine. No trace of his shame. He thought he looked presentable enough, so he walked towards Effie’s desk.

However, he wasn’t looking ahead. All of a sudden, a body smaller than his bumped into him. The person he had collided with was muttering a litany of “Sorry, I’m so sorry.” He too responded in kind. They were apologizing like idiots…until they realized who they bumped into.

Hillary’s eyes were wide in shock, her chest pressed against his. Her hands were barely touching his chest as if she was leaning onto him. Bill, who was much taller than her, could see her exposed flesh of her breasts from above. Oh no, not again. Those breasts that he couldn’t resist were tempting him. And this time, he didn’t think he couldn’t fight the temptation.

Hillary watched Bill in awe as the latter succumb into a daze. This was the closest she had seen him, and for the first time, she found him…handsome. No, he wasn’t handsome. He was gorgeous. Magnetic. Intoxicating. Far from the annoying Bill Clinton she had seen every single day for the past two years.

For a split second, she wanted to taste his lips.

Wait…what the hell was that?

It was Hillary who was first to wake from this trance, so she broke away gently, clearing her throat.

“Uhm…sorry. Wasn’t looking where I was going,” was her excuse.

“Same. I’d better get going,” Bill said.

He was really going to approach Effie, but somehow, he saw Hillary going for the fire exit instead of her office. His eyes followed her. Her hips swayed in a tantalizing motion as she quietly slipped into the fire exit.

Was she…inviting him?

When she was gone, Bill was debating with himself whether to follow her. Fuck. What should he do? Hell, he wanted to follow her, but then he had a report to finish. What should he do?

Fuck it.

Thinking with his _head_ , Bill followed Hillary into the fire exit, where he found her already red in the face, looking impatient.

“What took you so long?” she said.

“I...I…”

“Time’s a wasting. You still need to relieve that boner? I’m here. Make it quick,” she said with a great deal of urgency.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Bill was eager to oblige. He closed the distance between them, his hands playing with her breasts as they sucked each other’s mouth. Fuck. She was a damn good kisser. She knew her way into a man’s mouth. He could only imagine what she could do with that amazing mouth of hers on his cock.

But the real star of the show was her magnificent breasts. Those breasts of hers in his wet dreams? They were nothing compared to the real thing. So soft. So pert. So perfect against his hands. They were so amazing that The Peaks of Hillary Rodham should have been in the 7 Wonders of the World.

“Boy, this is so much better than any fantasy,” Bill managed to say when they broke apart.

“Fantasy?”

“I…I’ve been having wet dreams about you,” he finally admitted. “I always go up to your department not to flirt, but to see you.”

So, Bill had been coming up just, so he could see her. Sweet, but pathetic.

He should have asked her out sooner.

“You wasted so much time just because you’re such a wimp. I’m so disappointed in you, Bill Clinton,” Hillary said. She couldn’t believe that she let herself be pulled by his magnetism. “Go make it up to me.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Emboldened by her command, Bill’s hands crept under her blouse and cupped her soft breasts. Her hardened nipples told Bill how badly she wanted him at that moment. Never in his wildest dreams, wet or otherwise, did he thought he could touch her beautiful breasts for real, and yet there he was, massaging her and pinching her nipples.

Oh God in Heaven, he was actually holding her beautiful round breasts, and she actually wanted him to. Watching Hillary disintegrate into moans was Bill’s greatest achievement in life…so far.

As he played with her, Bill closed his eyes, thinking this was all a dream. But when he opened his eyes again, he found Hillary, still there, moaning, gasping, her mouth slightly ajar. She’s real, and she’s really pushing herself into his hands, urging her to increase the pressure.

Whatever he did in his past life to merit this heaven, he was glad that he did so.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

“Yes…”

In the midst of this heavenly trance, Bill found himself unbuttoning Hillary’s shirt, and the full glory of her breasts was revealed to him. Round, luscious breasts – not too big but not too small – greeted him. Her stiff nipples pointed to his direction, enticing him to come closer and kiss them. With her implicit permission, Bill dived forward, taking a nipple into his hot mouth, and pinching the other with his finger, drawing a deep long sigh from her lips.

"Oh, that's it… just like that…"

Caressing her hot flesh with his lips, teasing her with his tongue, sucking with increasing intensity, her sighs turned to moans, and Bill found that confirmation of her pleasure the hottest thing he could remember.

“Bill, don’t stop…”

After a while, her moans were almost yelps, and Hillary furiously pulled his face to hers, kissing him with wild abandon, her hands closing over his to force him to virtually crush her cleavage in his fingers.

At last, she let out a big long groan, her body seeming to shudder as he held her, as though someone had switched on an electric current to flow through her shapely frame.   
  
"Oh my God," she said, completely struggling for breath. "Oh. My. God."

Both of them knew exactly what happened. They never thought that it was real, but the jolt of extreme pleasure that had just coursed through her veins wasn’t a figment of the imagination. It was real. It was fucking real.

Hillary just had an orgasm.

Bill’s chest swelled with pride, having made Hillary climax without even fucking her. What he did was the stuff of legends. Normally, if he had done that with any other girl he would have told everybody about it. But with Hillary, it was intimate. Just between the two of them, never to be shared with anyone else.

“That was amazing, Bill. Thank you,” Hillary smiled, her eyes still hazy with pleasure.

“You’re welcome,” he said, his heart still full.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Hillary reappeared in her office, with Huma waiting for her, holding the bra that she had asked for. Her hair was slightly disheveled, but nothing could be deemed unusual. The only thing out of place was her scent. She smelled…odd. Not stinky. Just odd.

“Where have you been?” Huma raised an eyebrow.

“Got pulled into a chat somewhere. Listen, I need you to block my 11 am to 2 pm tomorrow.”

“What for?” Huma asked sharply.

“Lunch meeting,” Hillary simply said.

“With whom?”

“Confidential. Cannot say, sorry.”

“O-kay?” Huma was beginning to be suspicious. “Where is it then?”

“TBA. The person I’m meeting with will text me.”

“So what will I tell people if they decided to have a meeting with you tomorrow?” asked a suspecting Huma.

“Just lunch meeting. Private,” Hillary said, skirting Huma’s questions.

Huma sighed. “Okay. I’ll block it off.”

“Thanks,” Hillary said, her smile brighter than usual.

As Hillary left Huma’s desk and walked towards the ladies’ room to put the bra on, her phone vibrated. When she read the message, her smile reached her both ears.  

_My apartment. See you in the lobby - B_

**Author's Note:**

> To all the readers of [Just a Coincidence](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12912798): Yes the next chapter is in progress. Sorry of the delay! Huhuhuhu


End file.
